


Illusive Alpha

by Jammit_Sammy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Spark Stiles Stilinski, The Alpha Pack, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jammit_Sammy/pseuds/Jammit_Sammy
Summary: The Hale pack needs help from the infamous Exodus pack, because the threat of the alpha pack looms large.Stiles is alpha of the Exodus pack, and no one knows.Petra Hale wants the Exodus pack human for herself.





	Illusive Alpha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [g_love99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/g_love99/gifts).



> This is for my lovely artist, who I adore and want to give many many hugs. Their work that this fic is based on can be found here
> 
> This was originally to be part of the Steter Reverse Bang, but due to extenuating circumstances, I was unable to meet deadlines. It’s sad, but life goes on.

White-hot, searing pain raced across his ribcage like a current flowing through a live wire. 

_ There was blood. So much blood. Coating the trees and the grass like heavy morning rain. Covering him like a sticky-hot, quickly cooling sludge.  _

_ “You killed them!” _

_ “They had Lydia! They were going to sacrifice Lydia!” He knew he sounded hysterical, but there was blood and muscle tissue covering his face and his best friend was screaming at him while his other best friend lay unconscious.  _

_ Why were they fighting? They should be helping Lydia.  _

_ Without making a conscious choice, he was heading toward the strawberry-blonde whose limbs were akimbo, head at an awkward angle, but she was alive. Because he had killed the witches. Despite what Scott wanted. And Scott still thought it was the wrong choice.  _

_ He sat in the center of the carnage, lifted her head into his lap, and began muttering in an ancient language. One he wasn’t sure how he knew. When he had killed those witches, the rage and something else bubbling up inside him, there had been a release. He could feel it, even though he didn’t know what it was.  _

_ Whatever it was, it was healing Lydia. The wounds on her hands and feet were closing, the color returning to her pallid cheeks.  _

_ When he was done, he looked up to see Scott standing over him.  _

_ “She’s alive,” he whispered, voice heavy with exhaustion and weariness.  _

_ “We’ve talked about this. You can’t just kill whoever you-“ _

_ “She’s alive!” He reiterated, trying to make Scott understand.  _

_ “And I’m glad, but you did it the wrong way. This isn’t the first time, and I’m afraid that it won’t be the last. I just can’t have someone so willing to kill in my pack. You’re a danger.” _

_ His heart was breaking. The blood sweat and tears he’d shed for the very pack, the very  _ person,  _ he was being shunned by were for naught. In the end, he wasn’t good enough for them. Maybe he never was.  _

A scream echoed through his mind, bumping against the confines of his skull and expanding. The scream of a thousand centuries, yet so painfully young. Louder and louder until it was everything, his very being filled with that scream. 

_ He slammed the trunk of the Jeep closed and turned to face Lydia. “This is it. Last chance. You leave with me, you cut ties with the pack.” _

_ She gave him a faux patient look, and when she spoke it was slow and clear. Like one would talk to a child, or a simpleton. “Yes. The pack that would have rather seen me killed than get their hands a bit messy. A tough decision really. I think I might want to stay.” _

_ The last part was clearly sarcasm, and Stiles frowned at her. “Lydia, pack means protection. It’s dangerous out there for banshees on their own.” _

_ Lydia’s face softened. “There’s no protection for me in this pack, I knew that. The situation with the witches only proved it.” She smiled at him and came closer to peck his cheek. “And I’m not alone. I have you.” _

_ She made it seem so simple. And maybe it could be. Maybe they could go to Harvard and start a new chapter of their lives together. Maybe they’d finally get a break.  _

His body thrashed, pure agony consuming his very consciousness. The leather straps at his wrists, ankles, and waist kept him held in place for the most part. He felt that white-hot agony get worse, almost  _ angry _ , as it seemed to realize he wasn’t getting free. 

_ It wasn’t simple. Or easy. Or pleasant. Less than a semester in and he was burnt out. He was constantly tired no matter how much he slept, and it felt like he was on fire most of the time. His spark was getting increasingly harder to control, and he didn’t know if it was because he was tired and unfocused, or because his spark was growing.  _

_ It came to a point where it was too dangerous to practice his magic, and he barely had the energy to go to classes.  _

_ Lydia told him he “felt all wrong” and the more time passed, the worse the vibe she got was.  _

_ Clearly, the feeling she got had something to do with her banshee powers. But they weren’t specific enough and she wasn’t trained enough to know exactly what it meant.  _

_ So they saw someone. A Druid in a nearby town.  _

_ It was simple, really, he told them. The Spark inside was killing him. Using his energy and life force, burning it up faster than he could produce it. And there was nothing he could do.  _

As he came back to his senses, he noticed a shift. His head felt full, but at peace. Calm. And he felt more rested than he had in weeks.  _ Months.  _

“It worked. Stiles, it worked.”

And there was Lydia, beautiful as ever. But now she was literally glowing. Her skin emitting a hazy-warm light. 

“Stiles, I finally feel at one with my abilities. I know what they mean.” She looked at him, grabbing his hand where it was still strapped to the bed. “Stiles you, your spark…. you’re ancient. Old as time itself. Maybe older. It  _ knows  _ things. Can you feel it?”

And Stiles could feel it. Knew in his bones that the spark inside him was  _ his.  _ And they were old. They were old and they were  _ powerful _ and they were anchored to a warrior. A courageous and vicious one. 

One who walked with death like a friend, courted disaster like a partner, and kissed chaos like a lover. 

Stiles was disorder and the unbridled fury of the forceful life of nature. Lydia was order and the calm of the dead of night, the calculating cruelty of merciless death. That bittersweet mistress. 

Yin and Yang. They were a balance to each other. 

Stiles wasn’t surprised when the Druids they had come to for the binding said that it was the strongest and most effective biking ever done. His banshee would not settle for good enough. She had to be the best.

 

***

 

It had been two years since the binding ceremony, and a lot had happened for Stiles and Lydia. Together they had cobbled together a little pack, killed a few rogue alphas, and gained themselves a reputation. The magic flowing between the two best friends extended over their pack bonds, making everyone in their misfit little family more powerful than the average supernatural individual. 

Their bond, strengthening every year, was what got them through the first year of not having a pack. Though both were raised almost entirely human, they were still supernaturals. And they needed a support system. A pack. A  _ family _ . 

So they created one. A pack of misfits and outcasts. A pack that, according to the rest of the supernatural world, made no sense. Two Argent hunters, a Kanima, alpha twins, a chimera, and a beta werewolf. 

Jackson the Kanima was in London, along with the alpha twins Ethan and Aiden. The beta werewolf Isaac traveled the country with Chris and Allison Argent, assisting with their security business and hunting. Theo, their chimera, was a bit of a drifter but sometimes he’d show up to crash on Lydia and Stiles’ couch. 

Which was another thing about their pack that wasn’t common. It was practically unheard of for a pack to be so far spread, but they were and it worked for them. 

When they had killed the rogue alphas, the alpha spark had chosen Stiles, residing in him and feeding his spark. But most importantly, strengthening his pack bonds and allowing them to communicate better. 

The benefit of their pack was that no one actually knew how big it was. Or who the alpha was. The only thing anyone knew for sure is that the alpha was merciless and powerful, and that Lydia was the pack diplomat. Their emissary in a way. 

Stiles often entertained himself by listening to the rumors about his pack. 

Some of which were falling out of his friend Derek’s mouth at that very moment. 

Derek was the son of powerful alpha Talia Hale. Alpha of the Hale pack that had been based in Beacon Hills until ten years earlier, when Gerard and Kate Argent attempted to decimate their home. Now, they lived in New York. The Hales were the most prominent, and oldest, pack in New York. Their territory had amassed quickly in their short time, so that the Hale’s were responsible for the majority of New York’s supernatural presence. 

And he was asking Stiles to get him a meeting with Lydia. 

“Term is over, and I’m heading home soon. But our pack has been having a lot of trouble with a pack that moved into the state recently. A pack of all alphas. And I know you’re really close to Lydia, and that she’s the diplomat of that crazy powerful pack, so I was wondering if you could convince her to have an audience with my mom?” The last word in his sentence was pitched higher, making it a question rather than a statement. 

Chuckling, Stiles patted Derek’s hand that was resting in the table. “I’m a part of the pack too. I guess that never came up in conversation.”

Derek’s eyes widened. “But you’re human?”

Stiles raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Your pack doesn’t have humans?”

The flush that overtook Derek’s face was amusing to watch spread. “I guess I just assumed they’d only want really powerful people, from what I’ve heard. No offense!” He tacked on belatedly. 

“None taken. But Lydia and I are a package deal. Can’t have one without the other.”

So what if Stiles let people believe he was completely human? It was fun. The mystery that surrounded their pack was amusing to him, and when people thought you were the harmless pack human, you learned a lot more. 

“So,” Derek began sheepishly. “Could you talk to her?”

“The meeting will have to be approved by the pack alpha, but I’m almost certain the meeting will be a go.”

Bunny teeth flashing, Derek smiled gratefully at Stiles. “You’re the best.”

 

***

 

“I don’t know Stiles. Let me just check with my  _ alpha, _ ” Lydia said to him, voice thick with facetiousness.

She pulled out her phone and very deliberately typed something before presumably hitting send and putting it back in her pocket. Crossing her arms per her chest, Lydia watched him expectantly. 

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, reading over the message she had sent him. 

_ ‘Would it be okay if I accepted the meeting with Talia Hale’s pack?” _

Lydia was so petty sometimes. He snorted, pocketing his phone and looking at her. 

“Lydia, I couldn’t just tell him it was a definite yes! He’d get suspicious.”

The eye roll he got in response was not a surprise. “Or, here’s a crazy idea, you could just tell him you’re the alpha of the pack. I know you trust him, I know that isn’t the problem.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I trust him. It’s his pack I don’t trust. The right hand, Petra Hale, has been sniffing around for months, trying to find weakness in our pack. And I know you aren’t that close to Derek, but despite his looks he’s a giant teddy bear! He can’t be deceitful for shit. Especially around his mom.”

He knew the argument Lydia was going to make before she even opened her mouth. “Kate,” she said simply. 

“Yes. The one and only time he successfully lied to his mother, and the exact reason he can’t lie to her now.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lydia sighed. “I know why you do it, Stiles. And I know why I agreed to it. It’s smart. A tactical advantage. But it’s so fucking  _ exhausting _ .”

“I know Lyds. Thank you. For everything.”

In their living room, in her babydoll purple-satin nightie, with her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, Lydia looked soft. Harmless. 

If he hadn’t seen her gut an alpha werewolf for touching her without permission, with his own two eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it happened. But there was a grace to Lydia. A deadly power. Something almost as ancient as his spark.

 

***

 

Stiles had magically soundproofed the inside of the Prius, which he hoped annoyed the Hale pack as much as it did his own. 

However, the soundproofing was for more practical reasons than annoying the supernaturally gifted. In that instance, it allowed for the alpha and the right hand to discuss their plan of action. 

“I know this meeting is more a formality on our side, than anything else. But if you’re getting a bad feeling about this, we back out.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “It will strain my relationship with Derek, but that’s okay. I’d rather keep our pack safe.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, turning into the parking lot of a large industrial building in the middle of New York. She found a spot, put the car in park, and turned to her best friend. “We both already know that no matter what I think or say, and just so it’s in the record I do think we should help, we’re going to do what the alpha of this pack wants.”

“You make it sound like I’m a dictator,” Stiles groaned. 

The strawberry blonde smiled softly at him and patted his cheek. “Not a dictator. A good alpha. We trust you, so we’ll do as you ask.” Them she unclipped her seat belt and climbed gracefully from the car. 

Stiles, on the other hand, was impatient and attempted to exit the car before his seatbelt was all the way off. He got tangled in it, caught his foot on the lip of the door, and tumbled out of the car in an uncoordinated mess of limbs. Lydia snorted, an undignified sound that seemed to say ‘some alpha’. 

With an embarrassed flush, Stiles straightened out his clothes and offered Lydia the crook of his elbow. “Shall we, m’lady?”

Lydia stepped over to him, head held high and red heels clicking gently against the gravel. She placed her hand over his forearm and nodded. “We Shall.”

Inside the building, they were greeted by a gorgeous blonde in a smart, well-tailored pantsuit. 

“How can I help you?” She asked pleasantly, looking Stiles up and down with a calculating eye. To a passive observer, or a vainer man, it would seem she was simply checking him out. 

Stiles saw the moment she decided he wasn’t a threat, and smirked inwardly. This was exactly why he presented himself as he did. No one feared the pack human. No one was careful around him. 

In contrast, Lydia wore her power proudly. It was obvious in her very presence that she was dangerous, not to be trifled with. Erica’s eyes narrowed when she recognized it. 

Striding up to the desk with Stiles in tow, Lydia smiled at the receptionist. “Hello. We’re here to meet with Talia Hale. I’m the representative of the Exodus group.”

At the mention of their pack name, the receptionist scrambled to accommodate them. 

“Ms. Martin! We’ve been expecting you! Please, excuse my ignorance. I didn’t realize you’d be here so early.”

It was true, they were a half hour early. If it were up to Stiles, they’d be showing up in the bare minimum of time to keep from being late. But Lydia ran a tight ship, and on time was late while early was on time. 

“Mrs. Hale,” the receptionist spoke into the phone sitting on her desk. “Your 2 o’clock is here.”

There were some words on the other end of the line, and then the receptionist was waving them towards an elevator that she opened with a button behind the desk. 

Lydia and Stiles made their way to the elevator together, getting in and pressing the button for the floor on which they had been told the meeting would take place. 

When the doors opened, Lydia pushed Stiles out into the open foyer. On their way up, he had tried to convince her that his time would be better spent doing  _ literally anything else _ . They’d been to enough meetings like this, that they both knew how it would go down. Stiles would be asked to stay outside of the room, as a low ranking pack human, and one of the betas would get stuck on babysitting duty. It was all routine for them by that point. 

Stumbling, Stiles would have run directly into the imposing woman standing there if it hadn’t been for Lydia catching him. He very judiciously did not point out that she wouldn’t have needed to save him if she hadn’t pushed him. 

The woman was obviously an alpha, and looked just like the magazine photos he had seen of Talia Hale. It stood to reason that she was Talia Hale, and not someone wearing Talia’s face. But, hey, you never knew in their line of work. 

“Ms. Martin,” Talia greeted, holding a hand out for Lydia to shake.

“Alpha Hale,” Lydia nodded cordially, doing a half curtsy. 

Stiles had to stifle a snicker at the Alpha’s affronted look. Lydia didn’t shake hands. 

The alpha recovered quickly. “This way, please,” she gestured to a set of heavy oak doors. 

Stiles went to follow, and was stopped by a strained smile and polite words. “I’m sorry. But as this is very sensitive, I’ll have to ask you to wait outside. My Right Hand, Petra, will assist you if you are in need of something.” 

That was odd, thought Stiles as he watched Lydia and the Hale alpha disappear into the room. Typically the Right Hand was in attendance for meetings such as the one that was being conducted. He had heard there was some strain between Petra Hale and the rest of her pack, due to the nature of her work as the Right Hand, and her violent disposition, but he hadn’t imagined it would be this serious. No wonder the alpha pack was willing to try their hand at a takeover. The Hales were practically broadcasting their division. 

Stiles settled himself into one of the comfortable leather waiting chairs, then magically tuned in to the conversation inside the soundproofed room. For most, it would be hard to split their magic between masking their nature as well as eavesdropping. But Stiles was old hat, and he even had energy to spare on talking to the Hale’s Right Hand, who was walking up to him. 

“Hello. You must be Stiles. Derek talks about you often.”

Petra was… well, stunning would have been an understatement. She was tall, blonde, and fierce looking. Her arms and legs were corded with muscle, on full display due to her tight leather pants and low-cut blouse. Her eyes were sharp and knowing, and Stiles shivered at the intensity of her gaze. 

He had heard stories of the Hale pack’s Right Hand. A wicked, wild, wraith of a woman who came in like lightning and left like thunder. She was quick and efficient, leaving a trail of notoriety in her wake. The woman was violent and deadly, brutal in a way that usually only feral wolves were. Stiles didn’t think any less of her for it. Maybe it even made him regard her in a better light. He could understand wanting to feel the lifeblood of those who had endangered family. Who had dared to threaten  _ pack.  _

His libido wasn’t the only thing interested, though. Inside of him he felt his magic stirring, rearing its head and roaring like an angry lion. This woman, this  _ wolf _ in all of her violent wonder, was  _ his. _

Gods, he was fucked. 

 

***

 

The meeting with the Hale pack went off without a hitch. While Stiles flirted with Petra in the foyer-doubling-as-a-miniature-lobby, Lydia got the full debrief about the alpha pack and the threat they posed. From what Stiles could process, and he was thoroughly impressed that he could process  _ anything _ with Petra so close and looking  _ like that _ , the Hales believed they were in imminent danger. According to Talia, the alphas had already kidnapped and roughed up a Hale beta. That information made Stiles see red, and he had to work to reign in the chemosignals his rage was going to give off. 

Lydia had pretended to confer with their ‘elusive alpha’, and then the deal was struck. Which was how Stiles found himself in increasingly more alarming situations. Situations that had nothing to do with the looming threat of the alpha pack. 

One such situation he found himself in was having a conversation with one Derek Hale about Stiles’ sex life. Or hopeful lack thereof. 

“Seriously, Stiles. I see the way you look at her. And I know my aunt. She’s being…  _ predatory _ .” He shuddered at his own wording. Stiles could relate. He wanted to shudder too. The conversation was supremely awkward. 

They both stared at each other for a moment, before Derek cleared his throat. “So, anyways, what I’m saying is: don’t fuck my aunt. I will gouge my own eyes out, Stiles. I’m begging. Please do  _ not _ .”

Unfortunately, Stiles’ incredibly awkward conversation with Derek wasn’t the worst of it. 

Petra had been flirting with Stiles since that first day. Interrogating him as well, since the job of the Right Hand was to know all the facts. But the part that should have been the problem, the interrogation, wasn’t. It was the flirting. 

The attention and interest made his spark burn with satisfaction, which wasn’t bad at all. However, Petra’s interest also translated as hostility towards Lydia. 

It was clear that Petra believed Lydia and Stiles to be  _ involved _ , and Lydia was petty enough not to correct the older woman. The culmination of these facts was a powder-keg of conversations with barely concealed malice, and witty double-edged words. The two women were at each other’s throats constantly, and it was putting the packs on edge. 

Talia feared that Petra’s behavior would put their temporary alliance and aid at risk, and Stiles’ visiting pack was uneasy about the blatant disrespect of one of their own. 

The only member of Stiles’ pack dumb enough to actively participate in the women’s standoff, however, was Jackson. And one day, Stiles walked in to find their resident Kanima on the ground, Petra keeping the claws of one of Jackson’s hands embedded in his own neck while she had one booted foot pressing the other into the floor. 

That had been a tricky situation to diffuse. The end result of the diffusion being that Stiles and Petra were sent out on the next patrol to ‘talk things out’ (order of Lydia) and ‘cool off’ (order of Talia). 

On their patrol, they were to check the perimeter of the Hale land’s eastern most border. It was a circuit that would take them two hours to complete if they were going at top pace, longer if they were not. And since Petra still seemed heated from her encounter with Jackson, stiles figured it best to draw this out as long as possible. 

“I don’t understand it,” the blonde woman said, breaking the oppressive silence. 

“Huh?” Was Stiles’ eloquent response, brain scrabbling to recall if there was a thread of conversation he had missed. Coming up with nothing, he just stared at Petra, mouth slightly agape. 

“Close your mouth,” Petra told him offhandedly. “You look like a guppy, it isn’t attractive.” 

Stiles snapped his jaw shut, but continued to look at her in confusion. 

“What I meant,” Petra clarified. “Is that I don’t understand why no one has seen your alpha. Not a single person has any definitive evidence of who the alpha is. No common thread in the descriptions. I’m beginning to think there is no secret alpha at all. Just your precious Lydia, being pretentious even though she holds the alpha title.” Petra paused, only to take in a breath, then continued. “And that’s another thing. You have not one, but  _ two _ alpha werewolves in your pack. Two powerful and rare alpha twins who  _ willingly  _ submit to another’s authority with no ulterior motive or agenda of their own. It’s unheard of. There’s no precedent for it, but there it is.”

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but apparently Petra was not done because she continued to talk. “And you! You’re just a human. A human who carries around an enchanted bat. You’re in a pack  _ full _ of powerful creatures. It baffles me that they keep you around. Other than for the obvious. I guess banging the dangerous banshee diplomat would put you in a pack’s good graces.”

If Stiles weren’t so secure in his power, if this were four years ago, he would have been far beyond offended and well on his way to crushed at Petra’s harsh words. But he had done a lot of growing since his time with the McCall pack, and her words barely phased him. 

“I’m not banging Lydia, Petra. She’s like my sister.”

Petra hadn’t been expecting _ that _ as a response, and sputtered. “But, you always smell like her. And you sneak out of her room at the  _ oddest _ times!”

Snorting, Stiles hefted his bat over his shoulder. “Yeah. Because she’s my best friend, and I have night terrors.”

The female wolf stuck her nose in the air and sniffed haughtily. “I’m not apologizing. Even if I was wrong, she was a frigid bitch.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Stiles agreed easily. “Lydia can get pretty mean when she’s feeling protective. Nothing against you, you just have a bit of a reputation.”

Petra was clearly about to answer when she caught the trail of something, holding up a finger to signal Stiles into silence. She did a complicated series of hand gestures that Stiles took to mean ‘shut the fuck up and follow me’, so he did. 

The two walked as silently as possible through the forest, coming upon a clearing where the alpha pack was waiting. 

“Fuck,” Stiles hissed. If shit went sideways, he wasn’t going to be able to keep his secret.

The head alpha, Deucalion, stepped towards them menacingly. His unseeing eyes seemed to zero in on Stiles. “Well, Petra, I see you brought your pet.”

A rumbling growl made its way out of the Right Hand’s throat, and if it were any other circumstance, Stiles would have found it hot. Oh, who was he kidding? He found it hot, circumstances notwithstanding. 

“Now, now,” Deucalion mock soothed. “No need to get upset, dear girl. We both know you don’t have significant others. You have pets.”

“You’re on Hale land,” Petra deflected. “If you don’t leave, it will be seen as an attack on the Hale pack and it’s allies.”

One of the alphas standing behind Deucalion, Kali, snorted. “Yeah, bitch. That’s what we’re here for. We’re going to wipe out your pathetic pack.”

Stiles really wanted to groan. Or roll his eyes. So he did. And then said, “This is all very 80’s villain chic, and everyone knows I’m down for theatrics, but come on. Get to the point.”

Five sets of eyes all focused in on him. Possibly, he should have kept his mouth shut. But by then it was too late. 

“The point, you silly human, is that we’re going to tear you and the Right Hand apart. And then we’re going to send your pieces back to Talia Hale. We want war, little one. And we  _ will _ have it.”

Stiles whole body was wracked by a fine shiver. To the werewolves in the clearing, it would look like fear. But inside, Stiles could feel his magic pushing at his skin. Trying to escape, to eviscerate the threats to the Hale pack, to _his_ _mate’s pack_.

Before anything else could be said, Deucalion and Kali were on Petra. The blonde werewolf was holding her own well against the two alphas. Due to her rigorous training as the Right Hand, Petra was equipped to deal with almost anything. Five alphas at once was not one of those things. So, stiles set to work fending off the other three alphas as best he could. Wielding his wolfsbane and mountain ash bat, Stiles was doing quite well. He managed to hit one of them over the head, knocking them out cold. 

The fight wasn’t easy, and it definitely wasn’t in their favor, but they were doing okay. Until Stiles heard a short, high pitched howl that sounded more like a human scream. 

Uncaring of the alphas he had been grappling with, Stiles turned to the most terrifying sight he had witnessed since Lydia was almost sacrificed by the witches. 

On the ground, in a quickly growing pool of her own blood, was Petra Hale. One of the alphas, Kali from the looks of her bloodied claws, had pulled Petra’s intestines out through a gash in her stomach. The female beta’s blonde hair was fanned out around her, icy eyes hazy and unseeing as her every breath was clogged by the blood spilling from her mouth. 

Stiles felt the same feeling he had, all those years ago. The feeling that had built inside of him as he watched them hurt Lydia. The feeling that led to an explosion, getting him kicked from the McCall pack. But his spark was more powerful now. A veritable raging inferno, and it wanted to see these wolves  _ pay _ .

Like nothing he had felt before, his power came out of him in waves. Originating from a point nestled behind his ribcage, the magic bowed his body, pulling it taught like a bow-string. His head was thrown back, arms flung out to his sides, and his mouth was open on an inhuman sound. It was low, and guttural, and ancient as the beginning days. It was his magic, unbridled and  _ furious _ . 

When his magic was done avenging his mate, Stiles collapsed to the ground, breathless and shaky. The area around him was destroyed. The trees within a mile radius were splintered and toppled, their trunks bent outward from the source of power; Stiles. All that was left of the alpha pack, was a fine red mist coating the surrounding area like a macabre blanket. Blood, and ash. All that was left of the alpha pack. Evil or not, Stiles would properly mourn the loss of life later. But there was still the matter of Petra, who was bleeding out slowly. Her wounds were trying to heal, but because they were administered by an alpha, they wouldn’t heal fast enough to save her from the blood loss. 

Crawling, Stiles made his way over to Petra and pulled her head into his lap. She was pale, so pale, but he could feel her life force. Flickering and weak, but still there. Gazing intently at her face, he began speaking. The words were foreign and strange, but felt natural on his tongue. His magic flowed like water over Petra’s body, mending and healing as it went. 

While his magic was strong, it was not stronger than the natural balance of things. It could not defy that by which it was governed, therefore it could not heal Petra with no traces of what had happened. She would always have scars from where the female alpha had dug into her vulnerable flesh. Something that made Stiles angry, but he would take it over Petra being dead. 

When his magic had done its job, Stiles was so tired he couldn’t move. Between his magic calling to Lydia, and Petra’s howl of pain to her pack, it wouldn’t matter if he moved. Their packs would be here soon. 

Knowing this, Stiles settled himself back against the base of a decimated tree. As he watched, Petra’s eyes fluttered open. 

“I love you, my fierce wolf,” he whispered to her in the dead language. 

As she drifted back into slumber, she whispered, “I love you too, alpha.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I may turn this into a chaptered fic at some point.


End file.
